


This Kid's Not Alright

by writerstrash



Series: Mr. Stark & His Kid [12]
Category: Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Gen, Lots of Angst, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Peter Needs a Hug, Sad Peter, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, sorry folks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-05
Updated: 2020-02-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:28:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22331908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writerstrash/pseuds/writerstrash
Summary: Peter Parker mourning the loss of his Aunt in a bad way.
Relationships: May Parker (Spider-Man) & Peter Parker, Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Series: Mr. Stark & His Kid [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1402432
Comments: 4
Kudos: 79





	This Kid's Not Alright

**Author's Note:**

> So this is an idea I've had for a while. I wanted something with Peter acting out but he's just too GOOD for a tantrum or a bad spell. Therefore, I resorted to mourning and spiralling. Hopefully this isn't too out of character. Kind of wanted to challenge myself but still be realistic with reactions. Anyway, please enjoy. If you guys have any PROMPTS, I would really love them. I've been struggling with ideas lately. For this series and also for my Superfamily series. So please leave some comments or message me with ideas for both series, I really do love writing prompts!

Peter could feel the music vibrating his bones. From his toes to the top of his head, he felt both numb and oversensitive. Everything was _so much_ and so little. He didn't really know where he was, and he didn't really like the people he came here with, but this was the feeling he had been chasing all night. 

He could feel everything and nothing all at once. 

Hours later, just as the sun was rising, Peter made his way out of the elevator and into Tony's floor at the tower. His _and_ Tony's floor, these days. His home. The only place he had left to go now that May was gone. 

"I know I didn't set up a curfew, but this is kind of pushing it, kid."

Peter registered Tony's voice coming from kitchen, and he did his best to avoid eye contact. Tony was leaning against the bench, wearing the same clothes as yesterday, looking just as tired as Peter felt. They could both use some sleep after the past few weeks they had endured.

"Well, I'm back now," Peter shrugged. 

"Feel like telling me where you spent your night?" Tony asked.

He sounded pissed. Good. 

"Not really," he sighed. "I'm tired,"

"Must have been a great place if you put in the effort to lose Happy. Where were you?"

"I'm going to bed,"

"Peter," Tony called out, following the boy. "Hey, Peter, no, take a minute and talk to me,"

"I don't want to talk, I want to sleep," 

Tony eyed him suspiciously, folding his arms as he studied the boy's demeanour. He was shakier than usual. Irritated. The slightest sheen of sweat covering his skin.

"Hey, look at me,"

Peter shook his head, looking down at his shoes.

"Look at me," Tony repeated.

"No," Peter refused.

Tony reached out, putting his hand on Peter's shoulder before the boy shoved him away.

"Don't touch me," he grumbled. 

"Peter, look at me,"

Tony's voice was firm, and now Peter was pissed off. He was coming down from a night he barely remembered and the last thing he wanted right now was to be interrogated and studied by the man that took the most pity on him.

So instead of fighting, Peter turned to Tony and glared right into his face. Tony's eyes widened at Peter's, his expression turning from frustration to worry and panic. Peter's eyes were bloodshot and dark and he was blinking slowly, barely awake. 

Tony knew it was drugs. Knew it pretty well, too. Knew what it felt like to be so angry and upset that losing yourself to substances seemed like the only option to just get through it all. He had been in Peter's position, and it broke his heart to see this boy walking the same path Tony did.

"Anything else?" Peter asked, his voice full of annoyance.

"Where did you get it?"

"Get what?"

"Whatever you're on," 

Peter rolled his eyes.

"I'm going to bed,"

"No, you're not," Tony argued. "Empty your pockets, now."

Tony never thought he would be on the other side of this conversation. 

"What is this? Prison?" Peter scoffed. "I'm not emptying my pockets,"

"You're emptying your pockets or I'll just have FRIDAY scan you,"

"Go ahead, you'll just do it anyway. Why bother giving me a choice?" 

"Doesn't have to be like this, kid. Just talk to me."

"I _am_ talking to you. I'm telling you I'm going to bed,"

"Peter, I _know_ you're hurting. Don't go this way, though. Let me help you,"

"I can take care of myself," Peter shook his head. "I haven't got anything on me. FRIDAY would have told you the second I walked in the door, I'm not stupid. Can I go to bed now?"

Tony watched him carefully. Whatever Peter had taken was wearing off, and he was going to crash hard. It would be better if he slept through that.

Peter turned to walk down the hall, his steps sluggish and slow.

"You know they're coming back here in a month, kid," Tony told him. "The child protection people. They're checking in on us. We have to be on the same page, Peter. We have to have some communication here. Even though May elected me for this, they could still take you somewhere else. You're still a kid, and you're my responsibility."

Peter laughed, turning to glance at Tony for just a moment before he continued on down the hall.

"I'm sorry she dumped you with me," he sighed. "But don't worry, I'll be 18 in a few years, then you won't have the burden anymore. Or I could make it easier for you when they visit next month? Have them throw me to another family?"

Tony just stared at him, shaking his head.

"Go sleep it off, Peter. We'll talk when you're sober."

Peter rolled his eyes.

"Lucky me."

* * *

They didn't speak later that night. Peter refused to leave his room, and anytime Tony tried to come in and have a conversation, Peter would feign sleep. Even though Tony knew he was awake, Peter just ignored him. No matter what Tony said, he didn't move a muscle.

Avoidance. Denial. Anything to make it go away for another day.

"FRIDAY, extra eyes on the kid, okay?" Tony sighed, sinking back into the couch.

"Yes, sir,"

Tony wasn't cut out for this. He wasn't fit to be a father, especially not to a teenage boy that reminded him so much of himself. It made Tony sick to see Peter like this. So far from the kid he really was. But he couldn't turn his back on him. He couldn't, and he never would.

But Peter had a hard time realising that. Tony knew that Peter saw himself as a charity case. As someone that Tony took in because he had no other choice, because it would make him look like an ass if May died and he ignored the one thing she asked of him - take care of Peter.

Make sure he gets the life he deserves. Make sure he was happy. 

So far Tony had been doing horribly, and he really didn't know how to make it better.

Meanwhile, Peter couldn't find the energy for empathy. He couldn't think about what he was putting Tony through. He couldn't even think about what he was putting himself through. All he wanted was more of that feeling. That emptiness.

He wanted to feel nothing and know no one. That way, no one could ever leave him again. Peter would never lose another person he loved, because he just wouldn't love them to begin with. It was the only way Peter was going to survive this life, he was sure of it.

* * *

It took another two weeks before everything came to an inevitable head. 

Peter stumbled into the tower at three in the morning, sliding along the walls to keep himself upright. He had taken it too far this time. He had been out drinking, then out to a club, and he knew he had taken drugs but he couldn't even remember what they were. Right now, he had to get to his room as quietly as possible. 

But one of the side effects of being this wasted was being unable to tell just how loud and destructive he was being. 

"Jesus, Peter!" Tony yelled, rushing down the hall. 

All he could see was Peter slumped against the wall, slurring and waving his hand.

"M'okay," he shook his head. "D'n touch!"

"I have to help you up, kid," Tony sighed, reaching down to pull Peter into his arms. 

Peter let his head hang forward, resting on Tony's shoulder. It felt nice. Warm. Comfortable.

"W'na sleep,"

"Peter..."

Tony's voice was full of worry. A worry that Peter had yet to hear from him, despite their many conversations about his behaviour. This was a worry full of fear. Tony was _scared_ of what Peter was doing to himself, and Peter could feel his chest growing tight.

"M'fine," he tried again, pushing himself from Tony's arms.

"You're _very_ far from fine," 

"I don't need you," 

"I don't care, you've got me," Tony argued. "I tried to give you space, kid. I gave you time to get this out of your system, but all this shit ends right now, do you hear me? Right now."

"I don't need you!"

Peter pushed himself away from Tony, overpowering him, and threw himself back onto his butt. He groaned in pain, falling back and rolling onto his stomach. Tony bent down next to him, his hands on Peter's face.

"Look at me, Pete," he encouraged.

Peter's pupils were blown wide and bloodshot. He smelled just like barrel of whiskey. 

"We're getting help, okay?" 

"No!" Peter yelled, squirming away.

"No, I'm not letting you go again," Tony shook his head, grabbing Peter's arms and pinning him to the floor. 

"No! No! Get off me!" 

"Do you think this is as good as it get?! Huh?! Do you think you can keep doing this?" Tony roared. "You're going to kill yourself! That's where this road takes you, kid! Dead! Is that what you want to do? Is that what you want to do to me? To May? What the hell would she be thinking if she saw you!"

Peter stared up at the man, his heart racing. 

"FUCK YOU!"

"Good, yell at me!"

"FUCK YOU! I DON'T NEED YOU! I DON'T NEED...I DON'T NEED...." Peter cut himself off with gasping cry.

His entire face twisted in pain, his eyes squeezed shut as he sobbed.

"I know it hurts, Peter," Tony spoke gently. "But I need you like this, kid. I need you feeling things, not high or unconscious. I get the appeal, believe me. But you _need_ to feel this and we can get through it together, I promise. I promise I'm not going anywhere."

Peter continued to cry, screaming out in agony. His hands stopped pushing Tony away and instead fisted themselves into the man's shirt, holding him close.

"I don't want to!"

"I know," Tony soothed, running his hand through Peter's hair.

Peter reached up to wrap his arms around Tony's neck, hugging him until he was sitting in Tony's lap like a child. A vulnerable, sad, lonely child.

"You might not need me Pete, but I need you," Tony explained. "I need you alive. I need you breathing. I need you clean and sober and _here_."

"I don't want you to go," Peter cried. "Please don't go. Don't ever go. Please."

"Shh, I'm not going anywhere," Tony assured, pressing a kiss to Peter's temple as he hugged him back with just a much force. "I'm wherever you are, I promise,"

"I can't lose you too, please. Please, please, please-"

"Peter, you need to take a deep breath,"

"It _hurts_ so much!" he sobbed. "It hurts! I don't want to feel it anymore, please!"

"I know, I know it hurts," Tony shushed, unable to stop the tears in his own eyes. "It'll get better, Peter. I promise you. But you can't push it away anymore. It won't make it any better,"

"I miss her so much. So _fucking_ much. She...she was so much of me, and now she's gone...and I'm never gonna feel normal again,"

"You will," Tony nodded, rocking the boy in his arms. "It won't be the same normal, but you'll get there. _We_ will get there."

Peter pushed himself further into Tony's arms.

"I fucked up. I fucked up _so bad,"_

"No, you didn't,"

"I did. May would _hate_ me. I hate myself. I hate myself. I HATE-"

"I love you, Peter," Tony assured. "I _love_ you. There's nothing you could ever do to make me hate you. Nothing."

"You should hate me,"

"I should do a lot of things, and I never do,"

Peter shook his head.

"You shouldn't have to deal with me."

"It's my favourite thing to deal with, actually."

Peter was silent for a moment, and Tony was beginning to think he was asleep on his shoulder. But then he spoke, soft and exhausted from the come down and adrenaline crash. 

"Help me,"

"Always,"

"I don't want to be like this,"

"I know,"

"This isn't me,"

"Peter, I know,"

Peter nodded, closing his eyes.

"Can I stay here?"

"You live here," Tony reminded.

"No," he shook his head. "Here. Can I sleep here?"

Oh. Here. In Tony's arms.

"Let me get us on the couch, okay? Then you can sleep for as long as you want."

Peter let himself be pulled up and lifted onto the couch, still in Tony's lap, still hugging him just as tight. 

For a month, Tony had the shell of Peter. Now he had him back, and if it meant horrible aches and pains the next day, he really didn't care. This was his chance to get Peter away from the life he was falling into. To get him as far as possible from the life he once lived. 


End file.
